


Master Plan

by trillingstar



Category: Oz (1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-13
Updated: 2010-04-13
Packaged: 2017-10-09 01:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillingstar/pseuds/trillingstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Toby makes a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Master Plan

**Author's Note:**

> So here's part of a fic that I lost interest in, mainly because it just wouldn't go where I wanted it to, and I didn't know where else to take it. At least there's porn.
> 
> Submitted for [Oz Porn Tuesdays](http://trillingstar.livejournal.com/182013.html).

  
Toby maneuvers his car into the driveway, waiting while the garage door opens. A tangle of scrap metal slants against the far wall, even though Chris promised he would move it to the shed. The motorcycle's gone, though, and Toby sighs in relief. His flight arrived early and he's looking forward to surprising Chris. It's been four days since he left to attend the tax law seminar in Nyack.

Chris laughed in his face when Toby tried to include him on the RSVP.

He doesn't notice the puddle of oil by the car door until he's already stepped in it. "Shit!" he swears. Juggling his briefcase, suitcase, and overcoat, he kicks off his shoes, groaning when one disappears into the pile of junk in the corner. The cement floor is cold on his feet, even through his socks, and he moves quickly onto the wooden stairs that lead into the kitchen. Toby hefts up his things, walks through the living room, and then up the stairs to the master bedroom. Dumping everything on the bed, he strips out of his shirt and pants, which smell faintly of cigarette smoke, even though he requested a non-smoking room. He pulls on a clean t-shirt and jeans, and he's hanging up his slacks when he sees it. There's a fresh oil stain on the hem of one leg. Grabbing the fabric, he stares at it in disbelief.

Toby looks down at the floor, where more oil spots the carpet, and then he's following a trail of dots and dribbles that leads all the way back to the garage. "Fucking shit!" he shouts.

Not only did Chris promise to take care of the heap of bike parts that's been taking up space in their garage for weeks, but he also swore that he would be vigilant in cleaning up after working on the second bike. This is the fourth time in the past few weeks that Toby has accidentally stepped into a spill. He gapes in surprise at the rug in the hallway. It's covered in dirt and oil, and looks as though Chris has been grinding his boot heels into the material every time he walks on it.

Fury spirals through Toby's body; he grits his teeth, clenching his hands, and forces himself to go back upstairs. He moves robotically as he unpacks, his mind churning. He's not a fucking maid, and he's sure as hell not going to follow Chris around with a dustpan, making sure to get all of the crumbs. He's sick of picking out a new carpet every few months. No, he's done asking, reminding, and nagging. He needs a plan.

~

On Friday night, Toby keeps Chris up late using their favorite pastime: sex. He sucks Chris's cock until his jaw aches, and then he rides Chris hard, whispering, "Don't come, don't come." Chris's brow twists and he glares up at Toby, fighting for control, his eyes rolling back into his head as he arches up off of the bed again and again.

Toby watches a drop of sweat winding its way down Chris's chest. He leans and follows it with his tongue.

Chris shudders. He rasps, "Fuck, I can't-" and pitches them sideways. He wraps his arm around Toby's leg, lifting it, and grabs hold of Toby's neck, his fingers squeezing tight in warning when Toby moans. He thrusts in jarringly fast, half-covering Toby's body with his own, keeping him pinned to the mattress.

Toby can feel it, the stutter of Chris's movement. He knows Chris is close. "Gonna come for me now?" he taunts, raising his chin and pushing against Chris's hand.

Chris smirks – how anyone can smirk right before they're about to explode into a bone-rattling orgasm is beyond Toby – and then he's pulling out of Toby, sliding down, throwing Toby's legs to the sides and kneeling between his thighs. Peeling off the condom, he strokes his cock hard, and then his hips jut forward as he shoots across Toby's chest and stomach. He's coaxing out the last few drops when he reaches for Toby's cock, and Chris's firm touch is exactly what Toby needs.

Chris's snores rock the bedroom only minutes later, and Toby grins, amused, as he extracts himself from Chris's arms. He heads into the bathroom for a shower, and congratulates himself on the successful completion of phase one.  



End file.
